


Silence Speaks Louder Than Words (Sometimes It Doesn't)

by kinetikatrue



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-22
Updated: 2007-05-22
Packaged: 2017-11-26 21:59:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/654851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinetikatrue/pseuds/kinetikatrue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>First line from <a href="http://lipstickcat.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://lipstickcat.livejournal.com/"><b>lipstickcat</b></a>’s <a href="http://cats-addictions.livejournal.com/26259.html">Thank You Kindly, Francis Fesmire</a>, which is fun and porny. This is not porny and, um, probably not fun? Sorry.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Silence Speaks Louder Than Words (Sometimes It Doesn't)

**Author's Note:**

> First line from [](http://lipstickcat.livejournal.com/profile)[**lipstickcat**](http://lipstickcat.livejournal.com/)’s [Thank You Kindly, Francis Fesmire](http://cats-addictions.livejournal.com/26259.html), which is fun and porny. This is not porny and, um, probably not fun? Sorry.

“You have the right to remain *hic* silent.” It was the first thing Fraser’d said since Ray had bundled him into the sled outside the bar and started the dogs going. And there was this weird finality to the way he’d said it that made Ray feel like he was pronouncing a sentence or something. His own sentence, Ray guessed, made up a lifetime of nights like this one. But he was maybe wrong, ‘cos Fraser gave a kind of hiccup-y laugh just then and said ‘silent’ again And he didn’t sound too sad.

The night sure was silent, though. There was just the shush of the sled runners and the beat of the sled dogs’ paws as they slid over the snow. And the gerbils in Ray’s brain, running in circles trying to figure out what had made Fraser decide to get drunk and what to do with him now that he was. They couldn’t go joy-riding out on the ice-fields all night. Fraser was pronouncing something else, though, so Ray sat up and took notice.

“Spea-*hic* now or forev-*hic*-er hold your peace. *hic*,” and God, Fraser was, like, beating himself up using quotations. So Vecchio’s wedding maybe? That was definitely what priests said right at the end, as Ray had cause to know (ancient cause, but still, cause). And they’d gotten the news pretty much as soon as they pulled up to the detachment in Aklavik.

He couldn’t figure out why that would get Fraser all into a tizzy, though. Wasn’t as though it was Fraser’s ex-wife who’d gotten married. Heck, if anybody had a right to pull a drunk and stupid it was Ray and you didn’t see him curled up in a boneless lump on the dogsled.

The news _had_ thrown him for a loop, sure, but Ray hadn’t seen any reason to have more than a couple of beers – nothing that a bowl of caribou chili and a slab of bannock couldn’t soak up, which had turned out to be a real good thing, considering. Fraser drunk was just spectacularly weird in ways that Ray could never have thought to imagine.

He’d eased up on the controls somewhere in there; the dogs had brought them to a halt and flopped down in a pile to stare up at the sky. Ray looked up, too. It was still just amazingly huge as far as Ray was concerned, dark and star-spangled in ways that no bit of American sky he’d ever seen had been. And it opened him up and stole bits of him every time he looked up at it for any length of time. Which was, he was beginning to think, maybe why Fraser needed his part of Canada so much – ‘cos it had all of him, heart and soul – and, now, body, too.

“Ray. Ray, Ray, Ray, Ray, Ray.” Fraser sounded younger than Ray had ever heard him sound, had ever expected to do. Smaller, too. And he wasn’t tossing off hiccups between Rays, so his drunk was maybe mellowing a bit.

Ray said, real quiet, “Yeah, Frase?” And looked down and Fraser was looking up at him, looking broke wide open, drunk on maybe not just the beer, but the sky, too.

He said, “You’re beautiful, Ray.” And Ray could tell he meant it. That it wasn’t meant politely, like in the crypt, in that other lifetime where Ray was falling out of love and didn’t drive dogsleds. It was just true.

He still said, “You’re drunk, Fraser,” though, because it was true and Ray couldn’t not. Even if it was stupid and pointless. Then he looked half away, sure his face told far more truth than he could speak the words to.

Of course, there came Fraser’s stubborn face, drunkenly fuzzy, but right on cue. “That’s *hic* as may be,” and boy did Fraser look out of sorts, having the hiccups start up again just then. It didn’t stop him, though – he plowed right on with, “but it has no bear-*hic*-ing on the matter at hand.”

Which got Ray to look down at Fraser again. He blinked, said, “Oh,” looked back up at the sky. Maybe it didn’t have all of Fraser after all.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Swing Hard (It's Always the Quiet Ones Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1567175) by [jibrailis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jibrailis/pseuds/jibrailis)




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